


Together, but Separate - A Quiet Minds Post Ep

by LizaCameron



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Romance, post-ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 08:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1421311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizaCameron/pseuds/LizaCameron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a Hook/Emma post-ep for Quiet Minds. It explores a conversation I think they might have had the night Neal died. I feel that Neal got off much easier than he should have, this fic addresses that a bit, but it’s mostly about Hook and Emma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Together, but Separate - A Quiet Minds Post Ep

“Emma.”

Her name, spoken aloud, broke the silence of the night and startled her. She hadn’t expected anyone to still be up and about at Granny’s. But her alarm lasted only a split-second; she would recognize his voice anywhere. She wheeled around and saw him sitting on the couch in Granny’s living room.

“Hook. What are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he replied simply. His eyes swept the length of her, taking her in before he asked, “What about you?”

“Same,” she replied, sparing a glance down at her attire. She was relieved to confirm she was wearing her flannel pajamas and was fully covered. In her current exhausted state, she wouldn’t have been shocked to find she’d wandered downstairs in only a T-shirt. “Henry’s finally asleep. I thought I’d check Granny’s kitchen, maybe make some hot chocolate.”

“Can I tempt you with something stronger?” He gestured to a bottle and two high ball glasses on the coffee table. He lifted the bottle to the empty glass next to one that was already half full and began to pour. 

She walked over to the couch and gestured at the table. “Two glasses. Almost as if you expected someone to join you.”

“More like hoped,” he replied as he handed her the glass he’d just poured. “I wanted… when I left your parents and Belle and returned here; Granny told me you were upstairs with Henry. I didn’t want to intrude, but I was hoping to see you.”

Emma accepted the glass as she sat down on the couch next to him and sighed, “Helluva day.”

He nodded in agreement and after a few seconds of silence held his glass out to her. “To Neal.”

Emma took a deep breath and a small, sad smile graced her lips as she reached over to clink her glass against his. “To Neal.”

“Are you all right?” he asked his voice sounding artificially casual.

She glanced sideways at him as she felt the burn of the alcohol slide down her throat. Ever since she’d explained things to Henry, she’d felt numb. So the burn actually felt good. Was she okay? She had no idea. So she avoided the question. “You know this is the second time you and I have shared a drink in his memory.”

“Indeed,” Hook replied as he sat his glass down on the coffee table and turned towards her. His eyes drank her in, trying to find some outward sign that would tell him how she was doing. “I’m so sorry, Swan. Is there anything I can do?”

Was there anything he could do? Was there anything anyone could do? She felt weary, which combined with the numbness left her feeling almost like she was not present. As if she was sleep walking or watching the proceedings from behind some sort of glass wall. She’d gone from the horrifying trauma of Neal dying in her arms to the unspeakable task of having to tell her son his father was dead. She really hadn’t spent much time thinking about or processing her own grief. It felt like that was still on the other side of the glass wall. 

Finally, she answered his question softly, “You’re doing it.” She turned towards him and for the first time really looked at him in the dim light. He wasn’t wearing his leather coat or his vest. Just a billowy black shirt and his trademark leather pants. When her eyes lit on his face she saw hard lines that weren’t usually present and then it dawned on her how Neal’s death might be affecting him. “How about you? How are you?”

“I’m fine, Swan.” His reply was quick, almost dismissive.

But she’d been studying him and she saw the flash of pain that crossed his eyes when he spoke. “No you’re not.”

“Don’t spare a thought for me. My past with Bae was complicated, but you, you lost a love. That’s much worse.”

She let that sink in. Was it much worse for her? Should it be? She felt a wave of guilt come crashing into her. Because the truth was it wasn’t. She had to set the record straight, at least with someone, “No. I didn’t.”

He looked at her curiously, his eyebrow rising slightly, but didn’t say anything. 

“I can’t walk around having people console me as if my loss is greater than it is. I am not the wife or the girlfriend or the lover. That was not our current relationship. You know that.” 

He gulped, torn about how to take that. He felt relieved to have her confirm where her heart had been prior to today’s events and then he felt guilty for feeling relieved. “I do, but your past…”

She shook her head as if waving him off that line of thought. It was something that she now realized had unconsciously bothered her all day. It was the looks she was getting from people. The pity, as if she was experiencing unendurable heartbreak on top of grief. For the first time it all came into clear focus. 

“Yes, he was part of my past, but I’m not mourning a lost love. I’m mourning a man whom I once loved and, for better or worse, was one of the biggest influences in shaping who I am as a person. I’m mourning a man who led a very tragic life and never really got what he wanted or deserved. But mostly I’m mourning for my son who lost a father today that he doesn’t remember ever meeting. I don’t know how to reconcile that for him and if at some point he does remember, how is he going to forgive me for letting him mourn his father thinking they never met?”

Hook nodded several times before speaking, absorbing what she’d said. “You’re doing the best you can under the circumstances.”

“I’m not so sure about that, but… thank you for saying so.” She sighed heavily. If truth be told, she had surprised herself with her speech. It was if her thoughts and feelings had crystallized while she was speaking and it felt good to verbalize it to someone. She couldn’t imagine having this conversation with her mother and she was a bit startled to realize that Hook was just about the only person to whom she could imagine admitting these things. 

He took another drink from his glass and then sat back. After a long silence filled moment he said, “We cleared the air, you know.”

She cocked an eyebrow and looked over at him. “Really? When?”

“When you left me standing sentry over him in the infirmary.”

“After several centuries, that was lucky timing,” she said as she glanced at him sideways, a note of suspicion in her voice.

“Not really. I… I don’t know. I sensed something wasn’t right and I knew if he’d raised the Dark One that things might end badly. Very badly. I’m sorry I was right, but I’m glad my foresight allowed us the opportunity to converse.”

“Did you two talk about anything interesting?” she asked trying to sound indifferent. 

“You mean that you might find interesting?”

She shrugged, “I mean anything interesting. Did he tell you anything that might be helpful as we try and figure out what’s going on with his father?”

“No, he didn’t remember anything. Our conversation was of a personal nature.” Hook replied as he watched her curiously.

“I see.” Emma nodded. “I understand it’s between the two of you. I don’t mean to pry.”

Hook sighed and then finally admitted, “I always thought of him warmly, as a friend and I wanted him to know that I still did. Despite what might have come between us.”

“Like me,” she asked softly. 

“Yes, like you,” Hook admitted reluctantly. 

“Do you… regret… anything?” 

“I regret some of my debatably petty actions, but I don’t regret any feelings that prompted them. If that’s what you’re asking.”

She didn’t respond to that. Instead she studied him curiously. “He didn’t escape from the hospital when you weren’t looking, did he?”

Hook shrugged noncommittally. “I never said he did.”

“You implied it.”

Despite the events of the day, he chuckled lightly at that. “Maybe, but, yes, he asked me to let him go and I acquiesced. What can I say; he called me by my given name.” Hook smirked as he used humor to deflect the raw emotion of the moment. “I hear it so infrequently that I can’t refuse someone who actually uses it.” 

She took his lead, feeling more than okay with the momentary change of subject. “So now I know the secret? If I call you ‘Killian’ you’ll do anything I want?”

“Luv, I would hope the last several days have proven that when it comes to you, all you need do is lift an eyebrow and I’m at your service.”

The truth of that statement took her aback. He had been by her side, steadfast in his support and willing to do any task she deemed necessary. If she was to play Dorothy in the warped Wizard of Oz machinations of this Zelena person, then he was Toto. Her most trusted friend. However, she refrained from comparing him to a dog. He might not take it as the compliment that it was. 

“Things have been happening at such a fast pace and I know we haven’t had much of a chance to debrief, but I want you to know that you’ve been… really great. So thank you… Killian… for everything you’ve done. You have no idea what it means to me to have someone I can always count on.”

Gratified, he gave her a small smile. “You’re welcome, Emma.”

They fell into companionable silence once more. Emma drained her glass and then sat it on the table, before nudging it towards the bottle. Obediently, he sat up and poured her another. Emma glanced over at him as he poured. There was something that was weighing on her, that she hadn’t thought she could talk about with anyone. But suddenly she felt this urge to unburden herself to him. Without thinking any more about it, she blurted, “I feel so damned guilty.” 

Hook handed her the refreshed glass and then studied her before simply asking, “Why?

Emma closed her eyes and then shook her head. Finally allowing the gnawing pit in her stomach to fully surface and the dark, anxious feeling to envelop her. 

He studied her pained expression with concern. “Swan, you did everything you could. From what David told me you had no choice but to separate Neal from the Dark One.”

“Not that.” She opened her eyes, took a deep breath and fixed her gaze straight ahead. “Back in Neverland, in the Echo Cave, did you hear my confession? My darkest secret?”

Hook eyed her apprehensively. The mention of that time brought back a rush of all the emotions he had experienced in that moment. Once again he felt the sting of heart break as he remembered watching Emma with Neal, hugging Neal only moments after he’d declared his heart to her. “No, I could not hear your confession.”

She took a deep breath before continuing. “My confession was that I wished he were dead. When you, David and Mary Margaret told me that he was still alive, I had hoped it wasn’t true. It was selfish, but when he died that time it was like I was freed from the misery of our past. Before that, every time I looked at him all I felt was the tremendous pain our relationship had caused me. So I didn’t want hope that he was alive, I wanted to move on without him.”

Stunned, Hook’s eyes went wide at the revelation. He’d wondered many times what her darkest secret had been, but in all the times he’d tried to imagine it, the truth had never crossed his mind. He let several seconds of silence pass before he finally asked, “And this time?”

She turned to him, a bit of fire in her tone and a glare in her eyes. “Are you asking me if I’m glad he’s dead?”

“No, luv, just if you, once again, find any relief in the… finality these circumstances offer.”

She sagged back against the couch her momentary flash of anger waning. How could she be angry at him for insinuating what she herself was wondering? She thought about it.

“This time was different. I feel like by telling him that in the cave, I made a decision about our future and I could move on knowing his place in my life and that we were never going back to a relationship where he could hurt me like that again. I didn’t need for him to be gone in order to leave the pain behind. And that was true even at the end.” 

She grimaced as she remembered her words to him as he lay dying in her arms. “This time there wasn’t anything I needed to say. You know, I spent so much of my life needing the pain he caused me to be validated, needing him to tell me he was wrong for abandoning me, for being a coward. And I had my opportunity this time. He was dying right in front of me, but I found I no longer needed it… the validation, an apology, anything. I don’t know, maybe I have moved past it. Because in that moment all I really thought about was making him feel better.”

Hook swallowed hard and then said softly, “Then I see no reason for you to feel guilty.”

Her eyes popped over to meet his. Wishing what he said was true, but knowing that it wasn’t. “But I wished he was dead and now he is. It feels like the height of hypocrisy to indulge in grieving his death after I wished for it.”

He reached over and took the glass out of her hand and sat it on the table. Then in an unexpected move he gripped her hand, holding it tightly. She looked up into his eyes as they bore into hers, his intensity taking her breath away. “Come, Emma. We both know that Neal must have made choices during the last year that sealed his fate.”

Reluctantly, Emma nodded in agreement. “I know.”

“We’ve just been talking of the pain your relationship caused you while he lived; I think I can safely say that under the circumstances the last thing he would want is for you to suffer guilt over his death.”

“Logically, I understand that, but I can’t seem to resolve wishing my son’s father was dead and then having him die.”

“Emma, you’re entitled to your feelings, which you only revealed to save his life. And you’re also entitled to grieve him in any manner you see fit.”

“But what if I… I don’t know… set this in motion? After all, David’s secret was that he was stuck on Neverland, but he was able to leave. Mary Margaret’s was that she wanted another baby and now she’s pregnant.”

“As the savior, you’re powerful, but not that powerful. Moreover, we both know what my secret was in that cave. And what I want hasn’t come to fruition.”

“Hasn’t it?” she replied without thinking.

At that his movement stilled and his eyes went wide, searching her face to try and ascertain her meaning. When she realized what she had implied she felt a flush creeping up her cheeks and she immediately released his hand and jumped to her feet. However, she didn’t try and explain away her comment or take it back. Instead, she gestured to the stairs. “It’s getting late; I should get back to my room, in case Henry wakes up.”

“Of course.” He pushed himself off of the couch so that he was standing next to her, his heart still beating irregularly as he tried to determine what she’d meant, trying not to let his heart and mind go directly where they wanted to go, to hope.

She glanced at him and then impulsively she stepped forward and slipped her arms around his midsection, pulling him into a hug. For one moment he was so surprised by her gesture that he froze, but a second later he melted into her as he wrapped his arms tightly around her, his face burrowing into her hair. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she murmured into his neck. The warmth of his body against hers sent a feeling of absolute comfort through her that she couldn’t remember ever experiencing before. Part of her never wanted the sensation to end.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he replied back softly as he gave her one last squeeze before reluctantly letting her go.

When he pulled back he noticed that her eyes were brimming with tears. She smiled sadly up at him and blinked. When she did so, several fat tears spilled over and trailed down her cheeks. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked, her tears alarming him. She hadn’t seemed near crying through their entire conversation.

“I finally feel free to grieve properly.” She reached up to wipe the tears from her cheek with her hand. “Without guilt and for the right reasons and I’m not sure I could have without…” she paused and instead of verbalizing it she gestured to the couch where they’d been sitting, clearly referencing their tête-á-tête. “So thank you.”

He nodded once. His eyes held a serious and sad expression, but his lips upturned slightly. He returned the sentiment, “And I thank you.” 

This time it was her turn to be confused at the expression of gratitude. “For what?”

“I feel infinitely better leaving this room than when I entered it. And I’m sure that wouldn’t have been possible without…” he mimicked her gesture at the couch from just moments earlier. 

She gave him a small smile. And after a long moment where their eyes met and held, she felt something deep in her heart flutter to life, as if awakening. But before she could assign an emotion to the sensation, he broke the spell by motioning towards the door. She nodded and a moment later he was following her up the stairs and towards their rooms, together, but separate.

Now it was time to grieve.

Later, there would be time to figure out the rest. 

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters; this is written for fun and without profit.
> 
> Let me know what you think:  
> liza_cameron@yahoo.com  
> http://lizacstuff.tumblr.com


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